


Firewood Duty

by berlynn_wohl



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2009097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The others might be well-mannered enough to pretend they don’t notice what is happening to you, but I am not.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firewood Duty

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a Chinese translation: http://www.movietvslash.com/forum.php?mod=redirect&goto=findpost&ptid=185134&pid=3946567

In the summer, the patrol would make camp while there was still some light in the sky. The men would always tend to their horses first, and after that, each night they would take turns with the duties of foraging for firewood, building the fire, and cooking, before seeing to their own bedrolls. 

Tristan released the breast collar and flank cinch of his horse’s saddle. Next to him, Galahad did the same, but he was clumsy about it, pinching his finger in the buckle, hissing in pain. Tristan watched this nervous fumbling out of the corner of his eye. The moment Galahad got the saddle off, he flopped it on the ground and muttered, “Excuse me, gentlemen,” before trotting off into the nearby copse of trees. 

“He’s on firewood duty, then,” Bors remarked, his voice devoid of implication. No man criticized another for seeking privacy behind a tree, certainly not if it was sudden and distressed. 

Tristan examined Galahad’s horse carefully across its back and belly. All day, Galahad had been behaving strangely, gazing hungrily at the other men and then turning away when they glanced back, and shifting uncomfortably in his saddle, so much so that Tristan had feared it would rub sores into the poor beast’s flesh. 

Luckily, he found nothing that was cause for concern. He brushed Galahad’s horse down, then his own, before unpacking provisions and utensils. He regarded the items blankly, his mind elsewhere. Finally, he called out, “I’ve had it with hardtack. Who wants a brace of rabbits for supper?” A collective shout of approval went up, so he took up his quiver and bow and set out for the woods. 

He had not travelled far into the woods before he heard the shuddering, panting breaths. This was slightly out of the ordinary; the men seldom felt the need to go further than the nearest tree for a piss, but they tended to seek a marginally greater degree of privacy for _that_ activity. 

Tristan followed the sound to its source, and spied Galahad leaning against the trunk of an enormous maple, his armored skirt bunched up to his waist, both his hands working furiously under the crumpled fabric: one pumped away at his pink little cock, while the other rubbed further back, beneath it. He took his pleasure with his mouth wide open and his eyes tightly shut. 

Tristan stalked him silently. In his distracted state, Galahad did not even realize that he was not alone until Tristan was upon him. Pressed between Tristan and the maple tree, there was no escape. 

“The others might be well-mannered enough to pretend they don’t notice what is happening to you, but I am not.” Tristan snaked his left arm around Galahad’s shoulders, and shoved his right hand between their bodies, so that he could continue what he had interrupted Galahad at. 

He pressed his nose into the crook of Galahad’s neck, getting a good sniff of him. His smell wasn’t as strong as it would be, when his heat came on properly in the next day or so, but it was already delicious, to be sure. With his lips pressed to Galahad’s throat, Tristan could feel the vibration of each helpless groan. Galahad’s sweet little prick felt nice in his hand, so responsive, twitching and jerking until it spat its modest load into his palm. 

Galahad crumpled against him, remaining standing only because he was still crushed against the tree. His cheeks were flushed, and some of his dark curls were stuck to his damp forehead. 

“Feel better?” Tristan rasped in his ear. 

But very little of the tension seemed to have left Galahad’s body. “…A bit,” he said finally, when he had recovered some breath. 

Tristan’s hot, damp hand released Galahad’s spent prick and insinuated itself between his thighs instead, probing until it felt the slickness there. “Ah, you’re still feeling empty in here, hm?” He pushed one finger roughly up inside, and Galahad whined with it and squirmed like a wild thing. “Don’t fret,” Tristan said soothingly. “I have more help for you.” 

Tristan jerked his hand free and went to work on unlacing his breeches. He stood back just a fraction, so that Galahad would be able to clearly see his enormous hard cock when he pulled it out. “There, what do you think of that?” 

His breath hitching, Galahad gasped, “That’s too big.” 

Tristan chuckled. “You say the sweetest things. But you mustn’t be silly. You were built to take Alpha cocks…even one as big as mine. I will show you.” 

He grabbed Galahad by both shoulders, spun them both until they were clear of the tree, and twisted Galahad around so he faced away, before dragging him to the ground. He continued to manhandle Galahad until he was arse-in-the-air on his elbows and knees on the forest floor. 

Galahad’s skirt had fallen back down, and Tristan greedily grasped the hem with both hands, sliding it up slowly, pressing his knuckles to the backs of Galahad’s thighs as he went, so that he could savor the sight as he revealed that pale arse and its slippery, needy hole. 

“Gorgeous,” he muttered, gripping a cheek in each hand and prying them further apart. There was slick smeared all down Galahad’s quivering thighs. “This is going to feel exquisite.” He added, “For you as well, my darling,” and gave a playful slap to Galahad’s right cheek that made that sopping hole clench. 

He laid his cock in the crack of Galahad’s arse, then slid it down until the head was lined up with his entrance. He pinched just behind the crown with two fingers and slowly pushed the head inside. He liked the way it looked when Galahad’s rim closed just slightly after the crown of it popped in, so he pulled out and did it again. Then he halted. 

“Now show me how much you want the rest,” he said. “Take it yourself.” 

After a long moment spent whimpering feebly, Galahad flexed his thighs and pushed back against Tristan’s cock, his cries growing louder as he filled himself with it. When he felt Tristan’s coarse pubic hair rubbing against the tender skin of his arse, he forced out several breathy little moans.   

“Well done,” said Tristan. Galahad had opened so nicely to him, and now he was going to take proper possession of this lean, magnificent body. He bent to his task, leaning over Galahad and rocking yet deeper into him while breathing in his intoxicating smell. 

Soon Galahad lost his fear of pushing back, and they were surging against each other with a magnificently vulgar rhythm. Tristan leaned to one side to have a peek, and was pleased to see that Galahad’s prick was lifting again. “Enjoying yourself?” he sad slyly. “Cock feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Galahad groaned lusciously to indicate the affirmative. Everything was hot and strange, but it seemed right. “I need it. It’s so good,” he sniveled, then let loose with a continuous stream of full-throated moans, punctuated by deep grunts whenever the impact of Tristan’s hips against his arse was vigorous enough to be painful…which was often. 

“Hush,” Tristan hissed. “Do you want the others to know that I’m having you?” 

Galahad shut his mouth, and what came from his throat instead were sharp whines, just as audible, no doubt, but more pathetic. 

Tristan felt a splendid throbbing in the base of his cock, the kind he only felt when his knot was about to swell. “Are you ready?” he asked, not particularly concerned with the answer, for the pulsing in his balls was already becoming white hot. He shoved in, pushing Galahad roughly forward so that his arms went from under him and his face went into the dirt. Tristan could feel himself flowing into Galahad as the radiant pleasure bloomed and his knot grew large and they were locked together. Beneath him, Galahad convulsed heavily, spending another little pulse of semen onto the ground as he clenched agonizingly around Tristan’s knot. He cried out with the joy of it, the relief, his breaking voice a counterpoint to Tristan’s deep groan. 

Light-headed and content, Tristan swayed slightly as he tried to straighten his back. He released Galahad’s hips, finding that he’d left deep pink finger-marks, which were likely to darken soon. He was still quite inextricably joined to the flustered, shivering Galahad. 

He complained, “I’ve got a rock digging into my shin.” He leaned forward again and reached underneath Galahad, got a grip on both his thighs, then yanked them back. Galahad had the wind knocked from him as his belly hit the ground and Tristan collapsed atop him. “Ah, much better,” said Tristan as he stretched out atop his conquest. “What about you, are you feeling any better?” 

“I feel very slippery and hot,” Galahad confessed. “But also good, yes.” 

“As well you should. You’ll be dying for it again soon enough, though. That’s alright. My mother was well versed in herbology, and from her I learned of a concoction which is thought to relieve some of the urgency of a heat. We’ll find some sylphium, some wild carrot seed, brew you a tea.” Tristan paused to shudder as another, weaker pulse of seed left him, then continued: “It will keep you more comfortable until this patrol is over and I can tend to you properly.” 

Galahad twisted beneath him, to no avail, as Tristan had no interest in moving. “Why didn’t you tell me about this concoction an hour ago?” 

“If I had done that, I would not have had the chance to enjoy your charms just now.” Tristan tried to show his affection with a few kisses on the back of Galahad’s neck, and nearly got his nose broken for his trouble, as Galahad whipped around and snapped, “What if you’ve given me a child?” 

Tristan took the opportunity to let Galahad see his grin. “Then what a beautiful, brilliant child we’ll make together,” he said. “With my brains…and my looks.” 

Galahad’s squirming beneath him remained ineffective until Tristan’s knot had shrunk and he could at last withdraw his quiescent cock. He was on his feet in an instant, pulling Galahad up by one arm before putting himself away and lacing up his breeches. Galahad took a few tentative steps, testing his trembling, overworked thighs. 

“Come, we can find your herbs after we’ve caught a few rabbits,” Tristan said hurriedly, and picked up his quiver and bow. “The others will know what we’ve been doing all the same, but if we come back stinking of your heat _and_ unburdened by supper, they will think us completely useless.”


End file.
